


a literal crash course

by spiderboyneedsahug



Series: Baby Avenger [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Hugs, Hurt Tony Stark, It's all warm here on spiderboyneedsahug.ao3, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Still in denial about IW, Team as Family, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 07:10:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15137861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiderboyneedsahug/pseuds/spiderboyneedsahug
Summary: Usually, when someone goes down in the field it's Peter or one of the less armoured Avengers. It's not always like that.





	a literal crash course

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all! This is from a post originally from my Tumblr (I have to post it later because the school's goddamn blocked it :/ ), so I thought I'd yeet it up here as well! 
> 
> Original prompt:  
> TONY GETTING HURT IN BATTLE LIKE REALLY BADLY AND PETER TAKING CARE OF HIM

As a rule, it’s clear. If you’re an Avenger, you’re not allowed to go down on the battlefield. It’s not ‘try to avoid getting hurt on the field’, it’s simply ‘you’re not allowed to get hurt’. This rule, however, can’t always be followed. It’s just like that sometimes. 

 

So when Tony goes down on the battlefield, armour crashing to the floor in an ungraceful heap, Peter doesn’t know what to do. Does he report it to the others? Does he abandon his post? Does he call in medical?

 

He does none of the above. Peter leaps from the building, pushing as hard as he can of the ledge, and shoots off a web line that attaches to a nearby building. The wind is whipping at his body, chilling him beneath the suit, maybe just enough to make his trajectory a little wonky. He pulls the web taut anyways and  _ lifts _ , hurtling over the tops of buildings towards where Tony crashed into the roadside. His chest is a weird kind of tense as he drops down from the web, torque making his landing a little unsteady, and runs over to Tony. There are small plumes of smoke coming from the suit.

 

“Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark! Oh, crap-” Peter rests his hands on the chestpiece of the suit aimlessly, scrabbling for any purchase to pry the suit apart.

“FRIDAY! Release the suit, release the suit! Get him out of there!” He’s still struggling to pry the suit open when it releases, and when it does he throws the metal to the side in favour of pulling the damaged mechanisms apart. Peter’s heart stops when he sees Tony, eyes closed with a smearing of blood seeping from his hairline, unmoving in the suit. Peter worms his hands behind Tony’s back and gently pulls him out of the armour. It doesn’t feel right for Mr. Stark to be the one injured like this. Usually it’s him or someone else that gets hurt, given that Tony has an impenetrable suit of armour, so it’s only normal that he’s so out of his element here. What does he do now? Peter shoves his panic aside and thinks. Comms, back up. He can use his comms.

 

“Guys, Mr. Stark is down! He’s hurt, I don’t know how bad, what do I do?” He’s still holding Tony. Peter can hear his heartbeat loud and clear, but it’s uneven and it is terrifying to listen to.

“ _ Shit _ , Tony’s down? I’m on my way over. Have your AI send me your coordinates.” The air of serenity in Rhodey’s voice in so incredibly false, even to untrained ears. He’s panicking as much as Peter is.

“Karen, send Rhodey my co-ords please!” He doesn’t like it when these things happen. It’s scary, and it reminds him that behind Spider-Man, he is just Peter Parker. A  _ kid _ .

 

_ ‘Already done, Peter. Would you like a full medical scan on Mr. Stark?’ _

“Uhm-” Not really. Knowing what’s wrong will make it all real. “Sure? I guess?”

_ ‘Detecting a grade 2 concussion, multiple minor contusions and lacerations, two broken ribs and a punctured lung.’ _

“Punctured lung-?! Rhodey, hurry!” Peter rests his hand on Tony’s chest, blanching at the wheezy-feeling vibrations on the left side of his chest. Karen was right. Seconds drag by slowly while he waits, and the three minutes it takes for Rhodey to show up feel like hours.

“Shit.” Peter stands up and hands Tony over as gently as possible, a small, scared thing in his chest unfurling at his hero’s unresponsiveness. 

 

Your hero is meant to be infallible. Untouchable. Heroes aren’t supposed to get hurt. They’re meant to be symbols of strength. Looking at Tony as Rhodey manoeuvers him into a better carry is a wake up call. Heroes  _ do _ get hurt. They  _ do _ fall.

 

And it’s  _ terrifying _ .

 

Peter watches, in shock, as Rhodey takes to the skies and becomes a speck on the horizon within a few short minutes. What does he do now? The destroyed Iron Man armour lies on the road still, abandoned and lightly smoking. He can’t just leave it there. Anyone could take it. Shakily, Peter walks over to the armour and pulls it out of the small crater with a grunt. It’s heavy and unyielding in his arms.

“G-guys? Where’d we park the Quinjet again? I- I got Mr. Stark’s armour. I can’t carry it around like this.” Peter doesn’t like how small his voice is. How small he feels. It’s not right.

“South side, about 500 feet from your position. Have Karen show you the path, we’ll meet you there in 10.”

“Thanks, Sam…” Karen’s display lights up, and he follows the set path until the Quinjet comes into view. The armour is still clunky in his arms, heavy and digging painfully into his arms, but he keeps walking until his arms give out and a headache is starting to bloom at his temples. When he sits down on one of the uncomfortable seats of the jet, he brings his knees up to his chest and tucks his head between them. It’s been a long, long day. He just wants to sleep.

 

His eyes wander to the armour, strewn haphazardly across the floor. It doesn’t feel right to see something so regal and proud looking so empty; abandoned. Peter doesn’t move to touch it though. His body doesn’t want to respond.

 

He dozes for the next ten or so minutes, mind wandering on dumb things. He tilts his head slightly to acknowledge the appearance of the other Avengers in the jet, but doesn’t do much more. They must know he’s in some kind of shock because while they do sit next to him and try to engage him in conversation, they don’t push it. Peter’s thankful.

 

He feels distant the entire journey, just staring at the lonely suit of armour. He can see the other Avengers stealing glances at the armour occasionally. It’s obvious that Tony’s absence isn’t going unnoticed by anyone. The quiet murmur of talk is a pleasant change from the silence, but it doesn’t really help his headache. It’s like someone’s scraping out the inside of his head with a spoon, digging and scratching around until thinking gets harder and harder. By the time they arrive, each movement is like he’s underwater, brain processing everything way too slowly as he sluggishly makes his move. Peter slumps to the floor as soon as he tries to take a step, not from injury, but from lingering exhaustion. Even as concerned voices and hands reach out to him, he waves them off to stand again.

 

Too many times has it been the opposite way around, Peter getting hurt and Tony waiting for him to come back around in medical. He’ll be damned if he isn’t returning the favour. He grits his teeth and stumbles forwards towards the compound, ignoring the voices that are trying to call him back. He sticks out like a sore thumb in the building, bright red suit and grass stains contrasting sharply with the sleek, pristine gray walls of the lobby. He still tails the halls through to medical with a rigid determination to see his goal through. He’s still stumbling when he sees Rhodey outside a room, apparently waiting for him. Peter’s chest goes cold.

“Is- Is he…?”

“Tony’s fine, kid. He’s in there. Rogers gave me a heads-up, told me you were on your way.”

“O-oh. Okay.”

“You should take a break, kid. Maybe someone should give you a check up.”

“No. Mr. Stark would be there for me. I’m going to be there for him.” And he pushes the door open into the room. Tony is on the hospital bed, looking pale with an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. Peter winces. He probably could have caught Tony — at the cost of his shoulder, obviously — if he had been a little faster to respond. 

“Hey. Stop doing that.” Peter blinks and straightens his spine. Tony-

 

Not awake. Rhodey is at the door, arms crossed, an eyebrow raised at him. Peter doesn’t know how Rhodey knew that he  _ was _ blaming himself, given the mask, but doesn’t take time to ask about it. Instead he trudges over to the plush chairs at Tony’s bedside and plops into one. Peter groans quietly at the collection of aches rising up across his body, each of the hits he took earlier complaining in unison. 

“I’m just… I’m gonna stay ‘til he wake up. Don’t move me.” He folds his arms on the surface of the bed and rests his face against the crook of his elbow. A nap won’t hurt him, will it? He doesn’t so much as flinch when a few of the other Avengers walk into the room, obviously concerned. They won’t try anything, not with him  _ and _ Rhodey in the room.

“I won’t kid. You’ll still be here when he wakes up.” Peter nods tiredly at Rhodey’s words and lets go of his tight grip on consciousness.

 

* * *

 

A small jolt brings him back up. He doesn’t know how long it’s been, but he raises his head with a confused sound anyways. When he opens his eyes, he sees Tony trying to sneakily tug out his IV. Peter frowns and gently snags his arm with a loose grip. 

“Mr. Stark, you need that. Don’t pull it out.” His voice is still thick with sleepiness, but it carries nonetheless and Tony looks at him. The clearness in his eyes tells Peter he’s been awake for a while now. Tony opens his mouth to speak, but pulls a face and breaks into a coughing fit. Peter’s eyes widen.

“ _ Shit- _ ” He looks around wildly. The other Avengers that were in the room earlier are gone now, but there is a small cup of water left on a table just out of Tony’s reach. It’s well within his though, so he reaches over and grabs it gently. Peter holds the cup out, noting how Tony seems relieved to take the offering. After he’s stopped coughing, Tony looks over to him. 

“Thanks, kid.” His voice is still hoarse and a little painful-sounding. Peter winces.

“No problem, Mr. Stark. You’d-” He yawns suddenly, unable to catch it, “You’d do the same for me.” Tony leans over slightly, like he wants to ruffle Peter’s hair or pat him on the head. He’s still wearing the mask, he realises belatedly, so he tugs it off, scowling at the unruly state of his hair. He doesn’t pull away at the two light taps on his head, but does put his head back between his arms. He’s so  _ tired _ . 

“Don’t do somethin’ stupid, Mr. Stark. Jus’... wake me up if you need anything. Promise?”

“Yeah, yeah… I will. Now go to sleep, spiderling.”

“Spider- _ Man _ .” He can feel Tony ruffling his hair gently as he drifts off. The mask lies on the bed next to him, a thin cushioning on part of his cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to drop a prompt down in the comments! <3


End file.
